Pain
by Macmillaine
Summary: Set wants Horus to beg, but Horus never will. Loosely based on Mindbound's story 'Bound', though with a much higher rating. Warnings: non-con, pain, incest


They're fighting, they always are. A tangle of limbs smashing against each other, knees thrusting into guts, nails scratching over skin, knuckles sinking into cheeks and leaving purplish blue bruises, feral growls from either of them as bodies clash with tangible hatred, the heat of fury in both their faces.

Set wins, as he always does. He punches Horus across the face, breaking teeth and possibly his nephew's jaw as well. A loud crunch erupts through the silence, which was previously filled only with their quick breaths and muffled groans of their fight. To Set's annoyance, Horus is able to stifle the moan of pain once more, as golden blood sprays from between his pink lips, and his hands shoot up to feel his jaw, leaving other areas unguarded. This is a mistake. Set doesn't wait for him to recover, for him to heal from the blow as both gods know he will in an instant. He follows it up with a kick to Horus' now defenceless abdomen, catching him right in the middle, sending him flying away against the cold wall of the hall.

Horus' cry of pain is quickly muffled, the god refuses to acknowledge the pain as he impacts with the unyielding stone, but isn't quite adept enough to stifle an agonized grunt that goes straight to Set's groin. It's this what he looks forward to most whenever they fight: The pain he can inflict. The noises Horus will make, the humiliation it causes his nephew to admit he's in pain. He knows he's stronger – of course he is, being more than twice as old as his little nephew.

Once again Set doesn't wait, but goes after the younger deity, ready to pummel him into the wall, ready to smash in that finely carved, beautiful face he so hates. This time Horus is faster. He rolls away as Set bears down on him, aims a well placed kick at his uncle's stomach. Set stifles a groan as the bare feet impact with the force of a nuclear explosion, then grabs his nephew's ankle and flips him around, caring not for the crunching noise that indicates the bone is now broken. It doesn't matter. As everything else, it will heal soon, giving him the opportunity to cause more pain in the process.

"Aargh," Horus pants, clenching his teeth together tightly, although his jaw must be hurting tremendously after having just been broken. Set can tell the pain is getting too much at the moment, that there's no way he'll be able to hold in the moans right now – it's what he's been waiting for.

More golden blood spills from Horus' lips, staining his chest, and he twists away from Set's wrath on his elbows, trying to pull himself away and up again. Set lets him, this time. It's much better if they draw it out, for each of Horus' little moans is music in his ears.

Horus uses the wall to draw himself up, panting. Already his jaw has begun to heal, but Set can tell it's not fast enough – there's too many bruises and cuts on his nephew's skin now to confuse the healing process. Set grins at that. Horus is easy pray when he's already wounded.

"Sing for me, little falcon," Set whispers, and Horus' eyebrows contract into a scowl as he growls.

Set moves forward with lightning speed, draws his sword out of its sheath, driving the blade into his nephew's shoulder. Horus cries out this time, and a surge of heat, a faint trembling in Set's chest that rushes downward and manifests itself in a throbbing tightness of his nether region. Set pants, gazing down at his nephew, who looks nothing like his mother and yet he is like her...

Fiery, strong, unyielding. A rebel who defies authority. If it wasn't for Isis, they wouldn't be in this situation. Isis' son would never have needed to suffer if it wasn't for her insubordination.

Set withdraws the blade, causing Horus to stagger forward a few steps. Next moment, sharp talons rake across Set's cheek, leaving inch-deep, bloody silver trails. Set hisses like an angry snake, drawing back at the look of hatred in Horus' eyes, which does nothing but entice him further, sending yet another jolt through his groin, as he wipes the silver liquid off his face.

"So hostile," Set says softly. "You need to be taught some manners, little falcon."

Manners he'll teach his nephew. He feels the wound on his cheek heal even as he bears down upon Horus again, who is too slow to evade, grabs his head and smashes it against the wall. Horus grunts, there's a crunch, and then his knees give in from the force of the blow. And still he struggles, even though he can't lift a hand to feel his head. He tries to twist away, but this time Set won't let him; it's time for phase two to begin.

Ignoring Horus' continuous thrashing, Set grabs the younger god's wrists with one hand, holds him down onto the cold floor, and lines up behind him, rubbing his hard member against his nephew's backside, where the waistcloth tied across his hips has ridden up. He can feel Horus tense, then struggle with much more ferocity, but it's futile with his beaten body.

It's quite a sight, Set thinks. Horus is completely at his mercy. There are so many little bruises and cuts on his body, each of them a mark of Set's domination, of Set's victory, and still Horus is panting with effort and pain as his body tries to cope... Set will give him more than those injuries to cope with soon.

Set leans over his nephew's writhing form, brings his mouth to the boy's ears.

"What do you think? Is it time?" he whispers softly.

"Stop!" Horus growls, and still there is the force of somebody whose orders are followed in the command.

"Don't lie to me, nephew, you wanted this," Set responds, rubbing himself over the bare flesh of his nephew's arse again.

"I don't," Horus snarls, panting as he tries to get his arms free.

"Liar," Set breathes, relishing in the slight panic betrayed in Horus' bucking form. He bites down onto Horus' shoulder, hard, tasting blood and feeling the other god tensing up again. Horus' half sob, half growl, makes his erection twitch painfully in the tight plates of his armour. They'll be off very soon.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand, the throws it away. There would be no fun in tying Horus' hands that way – after all it's his, Set's, domination that is the trigger for all the heat. He continues to hold his nephew down with the other hand as he frees himself from the leg plates, then pulls down his trousers. His erection springs free from the folds, stiff and long, already glistening with precum at the tip. Set groans as it does, the cool breeze soothing on the feverish heat of his, and more importantly, Horus', skin.

"Don't!" Horus struggles again, and this time Set is pleased to hear the panic in his nephew's voice. Not that it will help him, but it makes his cock twitch with pleasure at the sound, and it swells another two inches, rising as it does.

"Oh nephew," Set whispers, close to Horus' ear again. "You'll enjoy this, trust me..."

Of course Horus won't enjoy it, but that's not the point – or is it? Set smirks as he straightens up again, rubbing the head of his cock into the crack between Horus' cheeks, spreading precum, but not enough so that it won't hurt. Horus makes a panicked, high-pitched sound.

"Set, stop! This isn't –"

But Set doesn't care what it's not. He turns Horus around easily, and before the younger god can finish his sentence, Set has thrust his cock into that small mouth.

"Don't make me break your jaw again," Set hisses as he feels teeth. Horus bites down anyway, and the pain is unbearable, yet enticing.

Set breaks his nephew's jaw again, just as he promised, though the pained moan stifled by the cock in the little falcon's mouth. Horus stays unresponsive, unwilling to please, just as his filthy father. Set doesn't mind. He pulls back slowly, the bite marks on his member already fading, then thrusts back in with force that makes Horus gag and then whimper as it dislodges the shattered remains of his jawbone.

Horus keeps whimpering as he does it again, and there are tears gathering in his eyes. Set looks past that. He imagines Isis, the mother, Set's filthy sister, is watching as he defiles her son. Again his cock grows – as it should for what he is about to do next.

Set pulls out after a few thrusts. He doesn't want to risk getting bitten again for one, and for the other, it's time for phase three now. He turns Horus around again, forcing the boy flat on his stomach, still ignoring the pained whimpers, pushing at his arms until he hears bones – both of the arms and a few ribs – break, a precaution, lest the falcon recover his strength before Set is done with him.

Horus pants beautifully, as though every breath is causing him pain. Set hopes it indeed is. The precum he has spread earlier has already dried, but no matter. It will be more fun like this, and there is more to come after all. He hoists up Horus' hips, feels the boy tremble, then lines himself up behind him.

"Say it," Set breathes into Horus' ear.

Horus stays silent, pressing his teeth together.

"Say it!" Set insists. "Say what you want me to do! Beg me not to take you dry right now and I might relent!"

Horus clenches his teeth tighter, as always refusing to follow orders... Set doesn't delude himself that his nephew wants this. He knows Horus is only too stubborn, to proud, to ever beg, even if it will tear him apart. It does nothing to ease Set's anger, however, because ever since they began fighting, he has craved to hear the falcon beg for mercy.

"SAY IT!" Set screams, feeling his sanity slip, and Horus twists his head away at the noise. "I – want – you – to – beg!" Set pants, slamming Horus' head against the wall in front of him with each word, until his nephew goes limp.

_Calm yourself_, Set tells himself, his eyes rolling and bulging madly. _It won't be half fun if he's unconscious_...

Finally, with great effort, Set manages to calm. He leans forward again, waits until Horus' eyes open again.

"You won't beg? You won't say you don't want this?" Set snarls into his nephew's ear. "You're an insolent little bastard, just like your father... You need to be taught some manners – the proper address for your superiors."

He lets go off Horus' wrists; there is no way the younger will be able to move his arms for a while anyway. He spreads the cheeks in front of him, feels for his nephew's entrance, inserts a finger and then two more. He isn't careful, and this isn't an attempt to make it easier for his nephew. He's the opposite, so that he can hear Horus whimper again, and the fingers are rough and painful, so he can feel Horus clench up around him, trying to push him out.

Set is also impatient; too long has he waited for this. He withdraws his fingers quickly, replaces them yet again with the tip of his cock. Horus makes a wet, gargling noise of panic, and Set can feel his cock react to it.

He spreads his nephew's cheeks apart far, watches as the tip of his cock automatically lands on the boy's entrance, draws circles for a moment, then pushes forward without warning. Horus screams piercingly as Set's member sinks into him, the pink hole spreading involuntarily to take him in. Set watches as his large cock disappears inside his nephew, goes in further and further until it's stuck to the hilt. He moans in time with Horus' anguished cries, then pulls out again, watching the length of his member withdraw, then slams back in. Next time he does it, there's blood on his shaft, which makes him laugh.

Again and again he slams into his nephew, panting and grunting, while Horus whimpers feebly. His shoulders have healed enough now so that he can cover his face with his arms, but it doesn't matter any more.

Set grabs his hips harshly, pulls his nephew's light body onto the tip of his cock. His vision is slowly clouding in a haze, and his breath is becoming ragged. Heat pools in his guts at the knowledge who it is he's slamming into the ground – not his rotten wife, Nephthys, but his fair sister's son. He images what it would be to have her watch, powerless to help, mad with grief at the sight. He imagines her face as he takes her son against his will, against her will...

Set comes with a ragged pant, spilling all over his hand. The image in his head is slowly fading, and so is the pressure around him as it goes. He shudders slightly – the hall really is cold. When he opens his eyes, he is alone, which is unsurprising. He sighs, licking the milky liquid off his fingers. He can't wait for the day when his fantasies finally come true.


End file.
